


To Be Neighbours Again

by dismiss_your_fearsx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, I also wanted to fix the ooc remark Ross makes about Caroline in S3 lol, Missing Scene, s4 spoilers, why was I starved of Demelza's reaction in both the book and show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismiss_your_fearsx/pseuds/dismiss_your_fearsx
Summary: A missing scene from 4.06. Ross returns to Nampara and brings news - and a certain someone - back from London with him.





	To Be Neighbours Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments on my previous Romelza fic! I hope you enjoy this one too! :)

“Are you making currant bread?” Ross asked curiously as he entered the room, having finally finished unpacking his things upstairs. Prudie was apparently too busy to do so, and Ross had momentarily pondered why he still paid the woman while he placed his folded nightshirt into a drawer.  
  
Demelza shot him an exasperated look across the table as she kneaded the dough with the heel of her hand. “Ross!” she whined. “If you wanted currant bread, you should’ve sent a letter!”  
  
Ross held up his hands in defence against his wife’s admonishment. “You’ll recall I did not say I wanted currant bread; I only asked if you were making it.”  
  
“Oh,” Demelza said with a relieved sigh, perking up once again. “No, ‘tis only normal bread - to have with supper tonight.”  
  
Ross sat down opposite her, the warm, familiar feeling of their companionship washing over him as he did so. “What is for supper?” he asked, anticipating her answer with genuine eagerness. The food in London was extravagant and delicious, but it was still nothing compared to Demelza’s home cooking.  
  
“Prudie is making stew,” she answered cheerfully. Ross could not stifle his groan, nor the uneasy gargle of his stomach. “Under my instructions,” Demelza elaborated, her mouth curving into a wry smile.  
  
Ross breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Ah, then I shall live to see tomorrow’s sunrise,” he quipped as he reached for the newspaper, curious to read about the latest Cornwall news. “Where are the children?” he asked after he finished reading a section about some children in Truro being admitted to the poor house. It had only then occurred to him that he was not greeted by the usual flurry of hugs and kisses that he was accustomed to; though, in fairness, he did not inform Demelza that he would be returning home early.  
  
There was a short pause as Demelza continued to work the bread dough with her hands. “They’re at Drake and Sam’s. They wanted to spend a time with their uncles,” she explained with a fond smile, thinking of how that morning Jeremy and Clowance had begged to go see Uncle Sam and Uncle Drake so they could play games on the beach with them.  
  
Ross hummed in acknowledgement and approval at the idea and continued reading the paper. Several minutes went by in companionable silence before Ross could not stand the withholding of information any longer. He had also promised to tell Demelza immediately. “Oh, my love, I meant to tell you,” he began with forced casualness, barely able to contain his smile as he anticipated his wife's reaction, “Caroline has returned.”  
  
The ball of dough flopped loudly with abandonment against the wooden table as it slipped through Demelza’s hands. “Oh, Ross, she never has!” she exclaimed breathlessly, excitement filling her being at the thought of her dearest friend just a few short miles from her once again. Oh, to be neighbours once again! “Oh, Ross, I'm that glad! I did feel sure in my bones that she’d come back any day now!” The grin that Demelza wore was quite contagious.  
  
“As did I,” Ross replied thoughtfully. He had seen a change in Caroline from the last time he had left her London. The dark cloud had now lifted; she seemed more herself and light had returned to her eyes. She had not even protested when Ross suggested they return home together, and on the journey home she constantly asked questions about Dwight, Demelza, Jeremy, Clowance, Drake, Sam, Ross’ mine, the Warleggan bank, the price of grain.  
  
Demelza’s hand’s hesitated over her ball of dough. “Did you, Ross, truly?” she asked, a little dubiously.  
  
Ross frowned at her question over the top of his newspaper. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, ‘tis just I remember a while ago you did say that you thought Caroline more in love with the idea of Dwight, as opposed to Dwight himself. That is, after Dwight came back from France.”  
  
Ross struggled to recall that particular conversation. “Did I?" he frowned in contemplation. "Well, if I did I misjudged her,” he then stated freely, thinking of the deeply personal conversations the two of them had shared about their losses in London. Their friendship had always been founded on the basis of honesty and quiet assistance, and their natures were so very similar, it was as though, at times, they knew each other better than they knew themselves. “I think Caroline loves more deeply than any of us will ever understand, including herself. I think that is why she finds it all rather painful, perhaps.”  
  
Demelza blinked at her husband. “That was a mite profound, Ross. You d’ sound like Sam,” she said, impressed by her his wise words.  
  
Ross rolled his eyes. “Then, God help me,” he grumbled, failing to smother a smile.

The two of them shared a laugh before Demelza turned her attention back to her task. Though, she could now barely concentrate as her mind drifted to her dear friend's homecoming. Caroline had written, of course, almost daily, in fact, but Demelza had not _seen_ her for months. She had not hugged her, had not taken tea with her, had not gossiped with her, had not laughed until she felt faint with her. Oh, she had so much to tell her! She hoped Caroline would now be more open in sharing her pain with her, if she wished to do so. After all, Demelza knew the pain well, and what are friends for? Oh, Dwight must be so happy that she has come home at last! Demelza could hardly wait to see them both. Her two dearest friends reunited at last. Reunited with her at last! (And with Ross, too, of course). 

After a short while had passed, Ross noticed the way Demelza had distractedly smoothed her fingers over the dough and had carefully glanced out the window two or three times, and so he said to her: “Yes, you may go to Killewarren.” Demelza grinned and wiped her floured hands clean on her apron. “But do not stay long for we have the hospital opening to attend later, and we will be throwing a party marking Caroline’s return at Killewarren on Saturday,” he warned with a contented smirk.   
  
“Yes, Ross," she agreed absently, smiling from ear to ear as she discarded her dirty apron on the back of her chair, not caring to pick it up as it immediately fell to the floor.  
  
Ross was not entirely mock-offended when Demelza rushed by him, heading straight for her coat and hat which hung by the door. “Do I not get a kiss?” Ross called loudly, pointedly, his body twisting in his chair to glance into the hall at his wife.  
  
Demelza roughly pinned her hat and struggled into her grey-green coat as she stepped back into the kitchen. She leaned down and placed a cheerful kiss on Ross’ cheek as if to thank him for bringing such happy news before she finally sought his lips. She giggled at Ross’ attempts to deepen the kiss; she was, at present, too excited to see Caroline to indulge his attentions, but she would do so upon her return. “We shall continue this later,” she flirted, teasing her husband before cupping his rough chin with her hand and kissing his cheek again. “Bye!” she chirped, taking her leave once again.  
  
Ross laughed at her haste. “Goodbye, my love. Have a care not to whip poor Lady to death on your journey!” he called after her, chuckling. He thought he heard a faint “yes, Ross!” before the heavy front-door of Nampara slammed shut.  
  
A brief twinge of sadness rushed over him as he found himself alone in the now silent kitchen, the only traces of Demelza left were the proofing ball of dough and her abandoned, crumpled apron.  
  
“Prudie!” Ross yelled loud enough so that she could not even pretend to have not heard him. A glass of some of the fine port he had bought in London would have to serve as his companion in Demelza’s absence.


End file.
